Aren't You Curious?
by MissCullen98
Summary: A man and woman… a very attractive man and woman can be just friends, right? Let us test that theory…


**Disclaimer: All characters belong to Stephanie Meyer. Lines in italics, come from the absolute classic ****_'When Harry Met Sally' (1989)._**

**Hi everyone! Here is a short story that was buzzing around my mind for a while. I am considering leaving it as an oneshot, but please leave a review if you would like to see it continued! **

**Hope you enjoy xx**

"Meg Ryan, Molly Ringwald and… Michelle Pfeiffer."

"Aw, Swan! You know I only have a thing for brunettes" Edward teases, tugging a strand of my hair.

I roll my eyes at him, shoving him away playfully. Edward – being the idiot he is – clutches his heart, falling dramatically back to the other end of the sofa.

"You've dated three blondes and a redhead, dumbass."

"Touché" he acquiesces, "but they never work out in the end. Maybe I should try something different."

He wiggles his eyebrows for effect.

"How many have you had?" I chuckle, gesturing to the brown bottle in front of him.

"Not as many as you Swan."

I sip my beer, carelessly "just answer the question Cullen. Fuck, marry, kill Meg Ryan, Molly Ringwald or… okay, let's go with Winona Ryder."

Edward looks thoughtfully back at the screen where Meg Ryan and Billy Crystal argue about something or another. I watch him fondly as he puckers his brow, appearing to think carefully about my question. I was going to miss him terribly.

Tomorrow morning, I would be flying back home for the Christmas break and to say I was dreading it was an understatement.

Forks, Washington had a population of three thousand and known for being the most boring town in the Pacific Northwest. Nothing ever happened there, unless you counted the odd high-school pregnancy or rowdy party.

I had moved to New York to go to College three years ago and kept my visits home to a bare minimum. I thrived in New York. I loved the hustle and bustle; the sound of traffic outside my bedroom window; the smell of pretzels from the wagons I passed during my daily commute to NYU; the energy, which constantly pulsed through the city; the people… it all made me feel alive in ways that Forks never had.

"Fuck Winona, marry Molly and kill Meg."

I gasp, "You cannot kill Meg Ryan! That's blasphemy!"

"Well genius, I got to marry Molly – she was in the greatest John Hughes film of all time. Then Winona Ryder… well, she's fit."

"Wow," I state dryly "you're powers of deduction astounds me."

Edward clicks his tongue at me, "I think so."

"How are we even friends?"

"Because Emmett and Rosalie are spectacularly bad at keeping their relationship problems private."

Well that was true.

Edward Cullen and I met during my second semester of my first year. My roommate Rosalie Hale and his roommate Emmett McCarty had an extremely… _passionate_, on/off relationship, which required a lot of mediating from Edward and I.

More often than not, we were Rosalie and Emmett's mouthpieces – used to pass messages between them, as if we were in kindergarten. When this got too much, we always ended up in confiding in the other.

It started with a simple text message. Something along the lines of –

_Rosalie is wearing sweatpants… _ \- B

_Emmett is playing Taylor Swift… fucking loudly. What's happened now? -E_

Then I called him to explain, bored of my tired thumbs and spell check. What began, as a good old-fashioned moan became a riveting conversation. We talked about our hopes and dreams and our families. We laughed when sharing our childhood stories, and bantered over music and films.

Before we knew it, it was three thirty in the morning. A friendship of convenience blossomed into something solid and unbreakable. We started meeting up, without using either Rosalie or Emmett as an excuse. We went to art museums and concerts and to the movies.

Our friendship was as easy as breathing, and I would not have it any other way.

**…**

_"You realise of course, that we can never be friends."_

_"Why not?"_

_"What I'm saying is – and this is not a come-on in any way, shape or form – is that men and women can't be friends because the sex part always gets in the way."_

**…**

"Well I think it's a load of bullshit."

Edward smirks at me, "what? You don't agree with Harry, even though you know he is proved right in the end?"

I simply raise an eyebrow at him "well, duh. I mean, of course friendships between guys and girls can work! Look at us! And I'm friends with Jasper, Emmett, Garrett, Riley, Alec… and that's just to name a few!"

He picks up my feet from his lap to twist his whole body around and fully face me - the movie, long forgotten. This was how most of our movie nights went. Usually we would find something to criticize in a film, and end up debating about it for the rest of the evening. It has become so frequent, that we have kept a tally of who wins.

Edward managed to get one over me last week when we watched Titanic; the topic being whether Jack could have fitted on to the floating debris with Rose. Edward, ever the logical one, insisted that there was no way the door could have taken their weight and Jack would have died of hyperthermia regardless.

I just thought Rose was a coldhearted bitch and Leo died in vain.

"Okay, number one- three out of five of those guys are in committed relationships, so they don't count. But you can't tell me that you've never felt physically attracted to Riley or Alec?"

Edward gazed at me curiously, his fingers fiddling with the clasp of my anklet.

"Honestly Edward, I don't think I have. I have eyes – I mean I know they are good looking, but I don't think I have ever wanted to bang them. They aren't my type, and I think they feel the same."

He eyed me for a moment, searching my face. Edward always tells me that I am an open book. That everything just shows on my face. Its something he takes great joy in, especially when he teases me.

After a moment, he leaned back – shaking his head "Y'know Swan, it amazes me how oblivious you are."

I gape at him, slightly offended but the bastard just lies back, crossing his arms behind his head without a care in the world.

"I- I am not oblivious! They've never suggested to me that they thought of me like _that. _Not once."

"Look, they are a guys!" he reasons exasperated, "You're hot, funny, intelligent… any guy would have a hard on for you - especially when you wear that tight blue dress or sexy dance in the club or answer the door in the morning, looking like you've just rolled out of bed. It's in our genetics!"

It takes me a moment to collect myself – and to be honest, it has less to do with the fact Riley and Alec _might _be attracted to me, and more to do with Edward thinking I'm hot, funny and attractive.

Edward grins at my speechlessness, "I don't think I have seen you this scandalized, since you found out Emmett and Rose fucked in Central Park Zoo."

I know what I _want _to ask Edward, but the words feel too bold on my lips. Do I really want to know the answer? Did I want to cross a line with Edward – a line that I haven't thought about seriously in a very long time.

Do I?

That annoying, nagging little voice keeps telling me the same thing. _Yes._

"Do you… I mean – have _you _ever found me… uh, attractive?"

The cocky asshole gives me a crooked grin, most likely amused by my clumsy wording – but his smile does not distract me from the way his eyes flash dark.

He pretends to look all chilled as he sips his beer, avoiding my eyes "Like I said Swan… you're beautiful, funny and goddamn intelligent – I'd be a bit of an idiot if I _didn't _find that appealing."

I don't know what to say to that, but it seems pretty clear to me that he is chalking up his emotions to 'male genetics'. I try not to feel disheartened as I try to get rid of the mass of butterflies that have found residence in my stomach.

It's silent for a moment – beyond the humming of voices from the television and the omnipresent sound of cars outside. It gets on the verge of awkward, which is an odd combination when it comes to Edward and I. We have never felt like this towards each other. It has always been ridiculously easy.

Stupid inner voice.

"So, what? Have you ever found _me _attractive?" Edward asks, running a hand through his hair. The nervous gesture mismatches with the teasing look on his face.

I fidget under his gaze, fiddling with the loose threads of my t-shirt. Honestly, Edward was an incredibly handsome man… stunning, really. He had a strong jaw line that you would expect to see on the cover of GQ; a head full of messy, bronze sex hair; large emerald eyes that were framed with long black eyelashes. Plus, he was over six foot with a toned body that he obtained with his regular runs around Central Park and visits to the gym.

The first time I met him, I was a mesmerized mess. But, I just thought that there was no way someone like him could like me, and it was stupid to get my hopes up. Then there was the whole Rosalie and Emmett situation. If Edward and I dated, then broke up – who would guide them two? They'd explode without the support of either of us.

When we formed our friendship, all those romantic feelings eventually disappeared… or more accurately, boxed away and buried. It naturally happens, when you see someone as your best friend for so long and think that that is the only way you can be.

Or so I thought.

Of course, I couldn't tell Edward any of this; the atmosphere was already thick and laden with expectation. It made me feel all tingly and weird.

Determined to reclaim our usual calmness, I twist my face up and shrug my shoulders at him.

"Meh."

Edward's face is a picture, as his curious expression morphs into shock, mock hurt… and then a devious smile lights his features. Before I have time to protect myself, he has thrown himself in my direction – pinning me down to my sofa.

As his forearms keep him from putting his full weight on me, his long fingers dig into my most sensitive tickle spot, just above my hip bone and I cry with laughter as he mercilessly attacks me – unable to keep the grin off his face.

"You do find me attractive! I know when you lie Swan, your nose did that twitchy thin! Admit it!"

"N-never!" I gasp, tears running from the corner of my eyes "I-I win."

One of his hand snakes under my chin, tickling – turning me into a bright red as I try to wrestle away from him – the laughter sending vibrations through me. Anymore and I am going to pee.

"P-please, I'm going to pee."

"Admit it."

"M-m-maybe."

His fingers finally relinquish their torture, but he remains on top of me – his face hovering directly over mine, hand lightly pressed to my collarbone while the other continues to hold him up. It can't be a particularly comfortable position, but in that moment, all I am aware of is his closeness. How his chest feels, lightly rubbing against mine. How I can see that faint scar across the bridge of his nose that came from a baseball accident when he was twelve. How warm he is and the thrum of electricity that comes from between my legs.

I cough, uncomfortably and wriggle from underneath him. Edward immediately gets my intentions, jumping off me and moving back to his seat. I don't miss the slightly disappointed look on his face, or the way he places a pillow over his lap.

We watch the movie, but I can't get the way he felt out of my head. Was it because I haven't been laid in over five months? Or was it Edward's theory of genetics… obviously I would feel all jittery with a handsome man lying on top of me.

Whilst I am busy trying to make sense to myself, Edward has evidently done some thinking of his own.

"I think, I have an idea…"

"What idea?" I ask nervously. I don't know how up I was to even talk, right now.

"I have an experiment… of sorts. And I think it would prove who is right or wrong – in concern of whether guys and girls can just be friends."

He's coy. I don't think I have ever seen Edward coy before. It's kind of adorable, which only serves to piss me off more. Once you open the box, all these emotions come flooding out.

"A kiss."

"Y-you want to _kiss _me?" The word 'kiss' escapes me like a screech, making Edward wince.

"Whoa, whoa – hear me out! I kiss you and if you feel something, I win the debate of the night… if you don't, then I will give you the point and we can just brush it under the carpet – no had feelings."

"Edward… I don't know," I trail off. How didn't he see what a bad idea this was? How this could ruin _everything. _What if I felt something and he didn't? What an idiot I would look like, and then I'd be stuck while he ran for the hills.

He takes my hands into his, sensing my panic "Bella, we can see it as a sense of closure. Wouldn't you like to know whether or not, this" he points between us, "is simply friendship or…"

"Or?" I prompt.

He releases a shuddering breath "something more?"

The weight of his question hangs over us, and the more I look into his eyes, the more I want to test his theory. Before I chicken out, I nod – clenching my eyes shut.

I am too scared to open my eyes, so flinch when I feel his fingers gently push a strand of hair behind my ear.

His hand lingers there for a moment and his fingertips are like feathers over the apple of my cheeks. I can feel him move closer. So close that I can feel his clean, minty breath against my mouth and his nose nudging mine in a playful Eskimo kiss. I giggle a little at the contact, which makes him chuckle in return.

A whisper of contact over my lips as he moves closer again – he brushes his lips over mine, once, twice.

Then finally, _finally, _he presses a little harder - kissing me almost adoringly. The pressure lasts a second before I kiss back – pressing into him. He releases a soft groan, releasing my lips and coming back again.

I release his hand, threading my fingers into his thick hair so I can kiss him harder. He tastes of beer and faint mint and something that is indistinguishable, but so delicious. I grip his hair tighter, making him growl.

He then moves me across him and onto his lap without breaking the kiss but the angle is all wrong. I swing my leg over, straddling his body unashamedly – and I feel his excitement hard against me.

I grind against him, loving the way his tongue swipes slowly and deliberately against my bottom lip. I open my mouth to him, sucking his top lip between mine slowly and sensually. Meanwhile, his hands move beneath my shirt – drawing spiralling patterns across the expanse of my bare skin.

Our tongues entwine intimately and it feels so incredible and so, _so_ right that I want to cry. I want to stay in this kiss forever. We move together in an age-old rhythm as we eagerly explore each other.

We only part when I run out of air, but he continues to trail lazy kisses up and down my neck – sucking roughly on my lobe.

"You win."


End file.
